Serkur and the Desert
Found carved into a ruined wall in the Sand-Sea in elvish.
Khontu set out a decree, that the gods of the West should come to each other and hold council over what places should be made sacred to each of them. Serkri and Nefershur set out at once, taking camels across the Sand-Sea. Now Serkri and Nefershur were sisters, but Nefershur was restrained and fearful, while Serkri lived well. And in the heat of the day, as the sun struck them, they stopped for rest in the shade of a spire of desert rock. Serkri and Nefershur sat together and shared a wineskin. Nefershur drank sparingly, enough to stave off the heat, but Serkri drank deep and laughed with her sister and made merry. In the heat of the afternoon, Serkri napped while Nefershur sang her to sleep.
But in those days in the desert was the Demonlord Ikur, four-headed and many-eyed, with venom in his spit and a bladed tail. Now Ikur had just come from his battle with the Greatwyrm Mehen in the Dead City of Lang, and the ferocity of their clash rendered it rubble. Ikur was gravely wounded, but the chaotic energy of the Abyss spurred him to feed. And there was a noise like a great beating of wings and a rush of foul air, and Ikur sprang upon Serkri and Nefershur and seized Serkri while she slept. And Ikur pulled Serkri under the sand, and by his art they were gone. Now Nefershur despaired of her sister's life, and wept and tore at her clothes as she proceeded to the meeting place that Khontu had set.
But Serkri did not die. And in a hollow deep under the sand, carved by Ikur's art, the two did struggle against one another. Now Serkri was drunk, and Ikur was wounded, and so they dueled on even footing. But Serkri prevailed, though she was gravely wounded, and her blood coursed with Ikur's venom. And in desperation, Serkri felt the magic emanating from Ikur's still-warm corpse, and ate it. There was crunching and cracking and snapping of bone and carapace as she ate, and abyssal ichor ran down her face and stained her garments. And Ikur's soul was subsumed into Serkri, but by his art, he stained her soul with his essence, and so his cause lived on. Now Serkri reveled in the power she had taken, and used Ikur's art to return to the desert's face. But look as Serkri might, she could find no sign of her sister, whom she hoped would be seeking her. And Serkri tarried so long in the Sand-Sea that she was the last to arrive at Khontu's council of the Western Gods.
Serkri arrived late, and the other gods whispered to each other of how she had been changed, of the abyssal stench that permeated her, of the still-dripping ichor soaking her clothing, of the frenzy in her eye where before had been peace. Nefershur ran to her sister, and embraced her, for her love was not so easily dulled. But as they talked, it was revealed to Serkri that all the fertile places had been divided among the gods already, and that her sister had scarcely stopped to seek her out. And Ikur's influence put hate in Serkri's art. Serkri went to Khontu, and all that he could provide for her sacred land was the Sand-Sea. And Serkri was incensed, and her rage coiled around her sister, who had left her for dead under the Sand-Sea. And Serkri raged out of the presence of the other gods, swearing pain on her sister and her works. And Nefershur was saddened at her sister's descent, and wept.
Serkri retreated into the Sand-Sea, where she wandered for many days and nights. And in her wandering, she came to know the Sand-Sea as Ikur had, and she took the name Serkur. And she took on Ikur's aspect, growing venom in her spit and a wickedly sharp tail. And Serkur took the scorpion for her holy animal, and lead them and a swathe of elves into the desert with her, for which Nefershur has never forgiven her, for the elves are her favored people. And the two hold enmity in their hearts forever, the hate that can only grow where love once held sway.
